Beautiful Like the Darkness
by wynteralchemyst
Summary: Pitch Black was a shadow in the darkness, a whisper in the night. He was everything a girl should have feared, and yet Elsa of Arendelle was not afraid. And that interested Pitch, far more than Elsa could have guessed...
1. A Beautiful Beginning

**Hey there!**

**So here's the Pitch/Elsa story that's been floating around in my head for the last couple months. If the beginning reminds you of _Through Ice and Shadows_, then you're right - this story is sort of like an AU of that one, except Pitch meets Elsa when she's a little girl rather than after she'd become a disgraced queen. The writing is also a little different, too; instead of long chapters posted weekly, these chapters are going to be fairly short and posted at least twice a week. In my opinion, that's a total win-win for you guys. Right?**

**Just a small disclaimer: This story has a T-rating now, but there are going to be some chapters later on that might be more of an M category. It's still several weeks from now and I promise I'll post another disclaimer when that time comes, but just so you know, it's coming.**

**********I am _so_ excited about this story, you guys have no idea. :)**

**Standard disclaimers apply.**

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*A Beautiful Beginning*

She caught his attention from the beginning.

Pitch Black always believed that children were easy to torment and to frighten. They feared so much - monsters, isolation, the cold - but above all, darkness. It was so simple, so wonderfully easy to nudge a hint of fear into their heads. A flicker of shadow, a noise where there oughtn't be, and he was rewarded by a shriek of pure, unadulterated horror.

"Nightmares," parents told their children soothingly. "It was just a nightmare." And Pitch, looking on in the darkness, would smile. _If so_, he thought, _then I am the king of nightmares_.

Every child was susceptible. Every child was weak. Predictable. It pleased him and yet, every couple decades or so, Pitch nearly wished for something more.

And then he found her.

Elsa, the eldest princess of the kingdom of Arendelle.

Pitch stood at the foot of her bed, his chin perched on the knuckles of one hand. What to make of this little girl? He had been observing her for a while and found himself almost... uncertain.

_You are unusual, aren't you?_ he thought, but it was true; Elsa had almost no similarities to any other child he had encountered. The cold did not bother her, nor did isolation, for she had been living in the self-imposed prison of her room for years now without complaint. Pitch's chief weapon, darkness, had little impact on the girl, and as for monsters -

Well. Pitch's golden eyes flickered over the girl's sleeping form, appraising the guilt inside Elsa's mind. Perhaps monsters were more familiar to her than he'd thought.

That should have dissuaded him from ever returning - after all, if she was not afraid of him, then there was no point to ever return - but her sister was _so_ easy to scare. Arendelle was a wealthy reaping ground for his purposes, and he always enjoyed frequenting such places. Yet for all his excuses, Pitch had to admit that a part of him returned at the chance to muse on Elsa's silent, sleeping form.

She interested him.

Sometimes, after she awakened from her fitful dreams, she even turned to glance in his direction. Anna did that too, and the sight of his glinting gold eyes never failed to tempt a piercing scream from her throat. Elsa never screamed, though - she, the only child who had never frightened at his looming, silent form, never screamed. And Pitch knew she never would; Elsa wasn't afraid of him, so she would never be able to see him. _It's a pity_, Pitch reflected. _Your monsters interest me far more than any of the others I've seen._

But then Elsa surprised him.

It was a night much like one of many in Arendelle's infamous winters: bitterly cold and heavy with falling snow. Pitch had just come from Anna's room - the noise the little girl had made was enough to wake the entire castle, and the king and queen were busy trying to calm her shivering whimpers with little success - and now he stood in the corner of Elsa's bedchamber, wrapped securely in the shadows that the early hour and bleak season offered him. Anna's wails had awakened her sister, and Elsa stared out the window, watching the silent flakes of snow as they piled up against the panes of glass. Pitch smirked, knowing she could hear the muffled sobs from down the hall - and yet her face bore no outward sign that she did. _She's strong_, he thought appreciatively, grudgingly. _A shame I can't get the same screams from her as I can from Anna._

He sniffed at her still form and made to leave her room when Elsa's eyes snapped over to look at him. "Wait, she whispered.

Pitch froze. Surely he hadn't heard right. The girl had _spoken_ to him. That was impossible. That _never_ happened. None of the children had _ever_ spoken to him before, other than the usual plea to _stop _and _leave me alone _and other trivial nonsense.

But no child had everdirected a comment to _him_ _specifically_ before, and Pitch stared back at the girl, finding himself in the rare predicament of being lost for words.

In Pitch's hesitation, Elsa sat up. Her eyes stayed fixed on him as she leaned back against the headboard, her child's face strangely calm. "Who are you?" she asked, and this time her voice was stronger, more confident.

Did she think to intimidate him by revealing she could see him? Well, Pitch could play at that game. "I am the Bogeyman," he said, a sneer in his level tone.

Elsa glanced toward her door and then back at him. "You're the one who scares Anna, aren't you?"

The corner of his mouth tilted up in a slanted smile. "I show her the darkness in her dreams," he said. "She is the one who flinches away from their truth."

The little girl's brow wrinkled. "Truth?"

"The truth that the world is not made only of springtime and sunny days. There is unfairness, there is danger." He raised an eyebrow. "You know this better than anyone."

Elsa blinked, then dropped her eyes. "It's why Anna can't see me anymore. Why I'm in my own room."

"That's right." Pitch watched her closely, wondering if she might suddenly turn shy or become afraid of him. But then she looked back up at him, and Pitch was astonished to see the small smile on her face. "My name is Elsa," she said. "Princess of Arendelle."

He barked out a mocking laugh. "Are we friends now," he demanded, "since we've introduced ourselves?"

Elsa pursed her lips - no doubt at the sarcasm in his voice - but she again surprised Pitch by answering with a simplicity that only children can properly convey. "Don't you want to be friends?"

This time Pitch held back his impulsive laugh and studied her. _Friend_ was such a pointless, meaningless word; Pitch was alone, and he always would be. He had no need for companionship, especially in the form of an intelligent, fearless little girl.

_No,_ Pitch corrected himself. He stared into her blue eyes as she stared right back. _Not quite fearless, after all. _He could use that, someday.

Besides, it was clear that the Guardians hadn't gotten to her yet. It was a rare mistake for the virtuous St. North, but Pitch could wield that against them, too. _Your oversight will be your downfall, _he thought, imagining the shock and dismay on the Guardians' pathetic faces. _And when that day comes, I will simply laugh._

"So you don't want to?" Elsa asked, disappointment clear in her voice.

"I don't have many friends," Pitch said slowly, musingly. "But you're not like any other little girl I've met, so... I'd say yes. We are friends now."

Elsa's bright smile was all the answer Pitch needed, and he sent her a sly one in return.

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**A/N: There will be more**


	2. A Beautiful Test

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who read, favorite'd and decided to follow this story! And special thanks to those who left me lovely reviews! I promise I don't bite, and I always leave replies if I can, to show my gratitude :) **

**For this chapter, I give you a little bit of foreshadowing to spice things up.**

**Standard disclaimers apply.**

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*A Beautiful Test*

A few evenings later, Pitch decided to test Elsa's courage. When she woke in the night, alerted by her sister's cries, Pitch stepped forward into the light. "Bad dream?" he purred.

She looked over at him, just as he knew she would, and went utterly still. Pitch relished the stark fear in her eyes, knowing how fortunate it was for him to ignite such a strong reaction in her. It was the only time any of his tricks - though technically his appearance wasn't a _trick_ since he wasn't bothering to enhance the eerier aspects of himself - had scared her, and Pitch didn't take that lightly.

Then Elsa looked into his eyes and she seemed to recover a little. "You blend in really well with the darkness."

He smirked, knowing she was indirectly referring to his ashy skin and black hair. He leveled a falsely curious look at her. "Do I scare you?" he asked, wondering how truthful his new 'friend' would be.

Elsa swallowed. "At first," she admitted shyly. "You are kind of frightening."

"Is that so?" he asked, not quite able to keep the pride from his voice.

She nodded. "But then... I looked at your eyes. And then it was okay."

Pitch stared at her, uncomprehending. _What_ was okay? Did that mean his eyes weren't frightening? Or that they reassured her? That was impossible. He was the _Bogeyman_ - his eyes were cold, lifeless, and unforgiving. Hadn't those words been thrown at him countless times by Tooth, the Easter Bunny, and any of the other Guardians or protectors of the world that existed out there? It was insulting that a _little girl _could find his wicked eyes _comforting_.

But Elsa wasn't done yet.

"It's why I thought we could be friends," she said, perking up, as if the information would no doubt soothe him. "They just seemed so... understanding, I guess."

Understanding? _No._ They were supposed to be judgmental and vicious. Disgusted by the weakness he hadn't known he possessed - which Elsa had somehow uncovered in him - and by the little girl's purity and unwanted kindness, he turned away. "I'll leave you to your sweet dreams, then," he said nastily. A curse.

Elsa called out for him to come back, but Pitch didn't listen. The girl was a fool for trusting him. _He _was a fool for thinking he could somehow use their so-called 'friendship' to shape her into a tool for his own devices. The girl wasn't cold-hearted enough to be usable; despite the horror of her past and the atrocities her power made her capable of, she was still full of the optimistic naiveté of childhood. It would take a lot of time - perhaps more than he was willing to give - to turn her to his intentions.

_Patience,_ he cautioned himself. _Do not give up the game yet._

He reminded himself that, regardless of her fear, she had gazed at him unflinchingly, in spite of his haunting appearance. _She has courage, then,_ he thought. _Courage enough to face the darkness._

He imagined her one day showing a haughty and disinterested face to St. North and the other Guardians as she stood at Pitch's side. Elsa would be his weapon, his avenging angel that would destroy all those good intentions from the Man in the Moon. With her ice and his shadows, they would be unstoppable. _And_ _that moment, _he thought, smiling, _will make all the intervening years worth it._

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**A/N: There will be more.**


	3. A Beautiful Name

**A/N: What? Another chapter so soon?!**

**You're welcome. :)**

**Standard disclaimers apply.**

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*A Beautiful Name*

She began calling out for him when she woke in the night. Sometimes it was after Anna screamed from her nightmares, and sometimes it was simply when her restless dreams led her back to the reality of her dark bedroom. Every night - or at least every night that Pitch came to see her - she called out to him.

Occasionally Pitch answered. He only replied after seeing Anna, in hopes that he could teach Elsa that his appearance was not guaranteed or constant. That was a failing battle - thanks to Elsa's lack of fear and, consequently, her ability to see him - and Pitch knew it. So on a night when Elsa began to call for him, this time using his title _Bogeyman_, he couldn't hold himself silent any longer.

"Don't call me that," he ordered, hating the way Elsa sat up eagerly at the sound of his voice.

"But that's your name, right?" The young princess looked for the glaring spotlight of his eyes and then smiled, locating him.

"No," he said acidly, wishing that he, at least, could hear Anna's unhappy sobbing through the wall to distract him.

"But Bogeyman - "

"_Stop_." He pressed his knuckles into his forehead. "It's a name, but it isn't _my _name. Like your servants call you 'Princess.' You are a princess, but it isn't your name."

Elsa blinked at him. "Then... what _is _your - ?"

"Pitch Black."

"That's your name? Pitch Black?"

He raised an eyebrow sarcastically. "You disapprove?"

"No..." She was silent for a moment. "It fits you."

Pitch glanced at her. Elsa was smiling faintly, waiting for his reply. He fought against the irony that threatened to twist his face into a bitter, knowing smile. "It does," he told her.

_More than you can guess, little princess._

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**A/N: There will be more.**


	4. A Beautiful Evasion

**A/N: Thanks again to all my readers and reviewers! This is a short chapter, but an important one (and don't worry - not all the chapters will be nearly this short).  
**

**Enjoy!**

**Standard disclaimers apply.**

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*A Beautiful Evasion*

"Why do you never try to scare me?" Elsa asked.

Pitch looked over at her but stayed silent.

"You scare Anna," she said, bunching up her blankets between her hands. "I hear her screaming at night sometimes. But you don't scare me."

He gestured toward her with one hand. "There's your answer, princess."

Elsa frowned, trying to work out how she had answered her own question, and Pitch grinned smugly. Elsa was a smart girl - he knew she would understand eventually.

But it would not be the last time she would ask him for the truth.

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**A/N: There will be more.**


	5. A Beautiful Confession

**A/N: We're going to have a stretch of pretty short chapters here, so bear with me. To compensate, I'm going to update regularly (as in, probably daily) for a while. **

**So, long-story short: yay, faster updates! :)**

**Standard disclaimers apply.**

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*A Beautiful Confession*

"I have to tell you something," Elsa said.

Pitch looked over at her. The girl's hair was longer now, her sleeping gown a different cut and color. "Oh?" he questioned, noting the serious cast to her face. "And what is that?"

She stared down at her hands, spread wide across her knees. "When I was born," she said haltingly, "I - that is, I was born with - with powers." She sighed like it was a heavy weight. "Powers of winter - ice and snow. They're strong, Pitch. I think they're getting more powerful by the day."

Pitch allowed himself to reveal a glimmer of the pleasure he was feeling. Finally, _finally_ Elsa was opening up to him. He had known about her abilities all along, of course - even before she had begun to speak to him - but it was a relief at last to hear the words from her own lips. That meant she trusted him enough to include him in the small circle of confidence that only included her royal parents. She was giving him her greatest secret, and he knew she didn't do so lightly.

Her confession also meant that he could finally begin his plan to corrupt her in earnest.

"Ah," he said, clasping his hands behind his back. "Well, princess, I think you're right: your powers _are_ growing stronger."

Elsa stared at him, thunderstruck. "You... how do you...?"

"I knew," he said simply, watching her face. "Before we first met, I knew."

Her blue eyes were wide.

"You're unique - a girl born with the fury of ice in her veins. But I told you back then - _you're not like any other girl I've met._ It was true."

Elsa was quiet for a long while. "Then you weren't afraid I would hurt you?" she asked at length.

Pitch smiled. Her first response hadn't been the accusatory _why didn't you tell me?_ like any other weak-hearted female. She had just accepted the information and moved on. "No," he answered, shrugging lazily. "You can't hurt me."

Elsa shook her head. "And I don't want to. I don't want to hurt anyone."

Pitch nodded. He had expected as much from the young princess. _You will, though,_ he thought. _One day, you will stand at my command, a promise of destruction to all who cross me._

_One day you will be mine, Elsa._

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**A/N: There will be more.**


	6. A Beautiful Concern

**A/N: Most chapters in this story - like the ones that have come so far - have been stand-alone, episodic chapters. However, every once in a while there are going to be some chapters that will have a follow-up, sort of 'sequel' chapter that will continue the main idea of the one that came before.**

**This is one of those chapters.**

**The next chapter is going to follow along right behind this one. So don't worry when it ends abruptly! I've got a plan. :)**

**Standard disclaimers apply.**

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*A Beautiful Concern*

"I destroyed my grandmother's clock today," Elsa said, nodding to the side of the room.

Pitch appraised the frozen grandfather clock with an arched brow, taking in the bits of pierced wood and shattered glass that clung to an explosion of icy spikes. "Fine work, in my opinion," he commented.

Elsa dropped her head into her waiting arms. "It was an _accident._"

He glanced over at her. "You're worried that your powers are beyond your control."

"I _know _they are!" She knotted her hands in her hair. "My father gave me some gloves to wear to stop the ice from coming out. I think it helps, but then _that_ happens, and..." Her words trailed off in a miserable sigh.

Pitch glanced down at her hands. She was, in fact, wearing dark gloves that reached past her wrists. He frowned. "Of course your powers are beyond your control," he said softly. "Of _course_ they're too strong for you to command. It's because you never learned how."

She looked up at him, eyes narrowed in worry. "I'm _trying_, though!"

"No, you aren't," he said calmly. "You aren't desperate enough to learn."

"I _am_!"

He scoffed, letting his annoyance at her weak pleas show. "If you were, then you would be more perceptive, _princess._" He whirled away, using his own powers to blend with the darkness, and vanished into the shadows.

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**A/N: There will be more.**


	7. A Beautiful Inevitable

**A/N: This chapter follows along right behind the last one.**

**Oh, and look! New readers! :D Hello and welcome!**

**Standard disclaimers apply.**

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*A Beautiful Inevitable*

"You have powers of your own," Elsa said.

He was in an impatient mood that night, and the words came out sarcastic and rude. "Ah, so you've finally noticed."

Pitch saw anger flare in Elsa's eyes before her etiquette training kicked in. "Forgive me for not being more observant," she said, placidly throwing his words back at him. "I had assumed - "

"Then take it as a lesson," he interrupted. "No doubt it's only one of many more to come in your life, princess."

She schooled her face into passive stillness. "Right. Then may I ask if you have complete control of your powers?"

"Completely," he affirmed.

Elsa was silent for a long moment. Eventually she murmured, "how?"

He watched her with hooded eyes. "How what?" he taunted.

She looked at him. "How did you learn how to control them?"

Pitch smirked. The answer was easy - deceptively easy. Elsa, he knew, would think so, too. "You have to accept them."

"I... I accept them," she mumbled, almost stubbornly. "The powers are mine. They're my... my... "

He knew the words she didn't say: _burden. Curse._ No, she didn't accept her powers. Not yet.

"Those gloves." He nodded to her hands, which were clothed in blue woolen gloves that came above her wrists. "Did your father tell you to wear them to sleep, too? Or was that your brilliant plan?"

Elsa flushed. "I just... don't want to make any mistakes... "

Pitch snorted. "Afraid to take risks - I'm not surprised, a pampered royal like you. So long as you're too scared to challenge your limits, you will _always_ lose control of your powers."

Elsa stared. Pitch turned away, letting more annoyance show than he really felt. "Goodbye, princess," he said.

Perhaps she thought his parting words were a vow to never return, because her voice rose sharply. "Pitch, stop!"

He glanced back as she scrambled out of bed. She pulled hurriedly at the fingers of her gloves, flinging them half-turned inside-out onto her rumpled blankets. "Wait," she said, holding out one pale hand.

Pitch looked down at the girl, still half his height, and snorted. "What?" he asked, throwing every ounce of amusement that he possessed into his voice. "Do you want me to hold your hand?"

She shook her head once. "No, just... I want to see if..." She didn't finish, but Pitch already knew what she wanted.

He gazed down into Elsa's face. There was determination there, and the same bravery that had impressed him those years ago. But underneath it all was uncertainty, and... apprehension? He looked at her steadily, waiting until she glanced up to meet his eye. Then he silently reached out his hand, his slim fingers looking like the dark shadow of a skeleton against the pale, fleshy skin of her hand.

When they were a few inches apart, ice suddenly crackled between Elsa's fingers. Pitch, expecting that the outburst might happen, kept himself perfectly still, but Elsa snatched back her hand. She twisted her face away, hiding her expression. "I can't... I can't control it," she said, her voice strained.

Pitch didn't answer. He waited for the question he knew would come.

"Pitch... " Elsa turned to look at him, her eyes wide. "Pitch, will you teach me how to control my powers?"

His mouth curved with pleasure. "I thought you would never ask."

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**A/N: There will be more.**


	8. A Beautiful Start

**A/N: Standard disclaimers apply.**

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*A Beautiful Start*

One of his first instructions was to get rid of the gloves.

"But..." She clenched her hands, glancing nervously down and then up at him. "But they help contain the eruptions of my powers - "

"They're limiting," he said bluntly. "And you don't need them; I told you before, you won't hurt me."

She looked at him doubtfully, but only said, "I'm trying to make a habit of wearing them."

"Then _don't_."

Elsa tried again. "But my father insists - "

"Then wear them when you think he or anyone else will see you, but that's all."

"But I make mistakes if I don't!"

Pitch raised an eyebrow, his neutral expression souring. The rate at which Elsa's power was growing was alarming. The gloves would help now, yes, but in a few years they wouldn't be able to curb even a small spike in her energy. _She's strong,_ he thought. _And if she can learn to control her ice, then she will be even more powerful yet._

Elsa held up well under his disapproving stare, but in the end even she caved under it's golden ferocity. "I'll take them off, then," she said, dropping her eyes. "But only when I'm alone."

It was a start, and Pitch knew it. With time, Elsa wouldn't need the gloves as a crutch - they would be for appearances only, to deceive everyone who didn't know better. _Everyone but me,_ he thought proudly.

"Good," Pitch told her. "Then put the gloves away. Your first lesson begins now."

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**A/N: There will be more.**


	9. A Beautiful Gift

**A/N: I really like this chapter, you guys. Not only is it super sweet, but it's like a little mirror to the future, in a way. I hope you like it, too. ^^**

**Standard disclaimers apply.**

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*A Beautiful Gift*

"What did I tell you was the key to controlling your powers?"

"Acceptance," Elsa answered dutifully.

"Precisely." He pressed his hands together in a wedge and pointed to her. "Don't think of the ice as alien, invasive, or _wrong._ It is an ability - energy from your body and mind, taking form."

"Then why does it act on its own?" Elsa combed her bangs to one side. She wasn't wearing her gloves; Pitch hadn't seen them since the night he told her to remove them.

"Because you still don't accept them." He tilted his head to one side, gazing at her critically. "You're afraid. Not of your ice, but what you can do with it. What you may _become_ when you use it."

It was her deepest fear spoken aloud, and Elsa cringed in response.

Pitch suppressed a triumphant smile. For a second or two he entertained the idea of torturing her with the information - how he had known from the first moment he saw her, how she would surely turn her name to one of infamy if he hadn't come along and magnanimously decided to help her tame her powers, things like that - but he was firmly committed to the task of earning her trust and couldn't turn back.

He could not have her thinking of him as an enemy, not when he had come so far already.

"Come here," he said to her.

She obediently took a few steps forward.

"Place your hand on the ground," he instructed her. "Don't try to hold back the surge of ice, but don't force it out, either. Let it flow out."

Elsa gave him a curious look but didn't argue. She knelt on the floor of her bedroom and placed one palm flat against the intricate rug.

Nothing happened for a few seconds. Then slowly, tentatively, little tendrils of ice snaked out from beneath her hand. They crawled out at tilted angles, sometimes arching together into points, sometimes branching off into slim fingers of frost. When it was clear that the image was complete, Elsa sat back on her heels, admiring the design: an enormous crystalline snowflake.

Pitch waited for her to speak, but she never did. "Well?" he prompted after a while. "You can't say that it's _villainous_, can you?"

"No," Elsa whispered. She reached out to trace a sparkling side with one finger. "It's... beautiful."

Pitch shrugged. He was no judge of beauty, himself - delicate, lovely things rarely thrived in the shadow of absolute darkness - and so he said only, "I suppose you could call it that."

The girl looked up at him. There was a huge smile on her face, and her cheeks were flushed with happiness. "_Thank you_, Pitch," she gasped breathlessly. "Thank you."

And Pitch, looking into her eyes, realized that his lesson had inadvertently become something two-fold: he had taught her about acceptance, yes, but he had also given her a gift. He hadn't _meant_ to show her that she was capable of creating something so fragile and exquisite - in fact, it probably would have been better to keep that knowledge secret until she had earned the skills to utilize it. But at that moment, when her blue eyes met his, Pitch couldn't bring himself to correct her.

Besides, Elsa was right: the snowflake _was_ beautiful, in its own frigid way.

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**A/N: There will be more.**


	10. A Beautiful Impatience

**A/N: Sorry for the delay in updates, everyone. I've been sick on and off, and it's made things difficult.**

**Anywho, today I'm feeling good, so here's a new chapter! Enjoy!**

**Standard disclaimers apply.**

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*A Beautiful Impatience*

She was pacing when Pitch arrived. "Let me guess, you can't sleep?" he asked dryly.

Elsa glanced at him but didn't break her anxious stride. "I had another outburst," she said shortly. "I've been doing what you told me - I've been watching my emotions, and I know that my powers get out of control whenever I'm worried or upset. But no matter how calm I try to be, they still come out."

"You don't have to be calm," he said, watching her. "Your powers are _supposed_ to react to what you're feeling. You just need to learn how to use them to your advantage."

"Advantage?" she repeated. "How? You mean, I just blast away anyone who makes me angry?"

He bobbed one shoulder, amused at her irritation. "If that's what you want to do."

"Well, it's _not_," she snapped, flinging one arm down.

A few sparks of ice shot out from her hand toward Pitch, but he merely batted them away. "Careful," he cautioned, glancing at the carved wardrobe behind his left shoulder. "That is, unless you want to explain to your royal parents that you've had another accident."

Elsa sucked in her breath and buried her fists in her eyes. She turned away from Pitch, and for a moment he thought she was merely pouting until he heard her whispering something, over and over again.

"'Conceal, don't feel?'" Pitch echoed, and Elsa's shoulders tensed. "What do you mean?"

"It's... it's a mantra. My father taught me. It's supposed to help - "

"Look at me," he commanded her.

Elsa flinched again, but she slowly turned to face him.

"Let me ask you a question," Pitch said. He looked away from her and toward her bedroom door, to the hallway and the world beyond, where Elsa was forbidden to go. "Has the suggestion from your father helped?"

"Well... no..."

"Does he have any experience in mastering powers of his own?"

"No," she admitted.

He could hear in her voice that she expected a heavy rebuke to follow. Pitch smirked and took a different tactic. "Then remind me why you listen to him instead of me?"

"He's my father," Elsa said quietly, "but it's more than that. I'm going to be Queen one day, and if I show my powers, then everyone will think... everyone will be... " She sighed. "I just want to be normal in front of my people."

"Being normal is terribly dull," he said dismissively.

"But everyone will fear me," she objected.

He finally turned to look back at her. "They will fear you regardless. You might as well get it over with now so your subjects won't begrudge you for holding it secret from them later."

Elsa shook her head. "I don't know, Pitch... "

He shrugged. "Have it your way, then. But keep in mind that it is much easier to be feared than to be loved."

She glanced at him but didn't reply.

"And stop telling yourself to stop feeling and concealing. It'll never work."

Her mouth twitched into a smile. "It's _'conceal, don't feel_.'"

He rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

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**A/N: There will be more.**


	11. A Beautiful Failing

**A/N: Another short one today, so there will be another update soon!**

**Standard disclaimers apply.**

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*A Beautiful Failing*

"You never try to scare me," Elsa said. "Not like you used to scare Anna."

Pitch waited for the obvious followup question, but Elsa didn't voice it. Instead she asked, "did you try? When I was younger?"

He looked away, out her window. The heavy mist hid the city rooftops from view, making the town look like it was blanketed in snow. "No," he answered honestly. "There would have been no point."

"Why is that?"

"I can tell who is prone to my darkness, and what they fear. You were not afraid of me."

It was a terrible admission. He was revealing a flaw, a weakness. Elsa, a mere human child, was _not afraid_ of him. _Him_, the _Bogeyman_. Pitch narrowed his eyes, hating the words and the way they sounded so scornful and simple to his ears. Nicholas St. North would have laughed himself to deaf if he had been present.

But Elsa didn't laugh. "Pitch... why do you scare people? Why do you scare little children?"

He didn't answer.

"Do you have to?" Elsa whispered.

He could feel her looking at him, but Pitch didn't turn. _You don't want to know the answers to your questions, Elsa, _he thought.

But it was not the last time she would ask him for the truth.

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**A/N: There will be more.**


	12. A Beautiful Discovery

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who sent me well wishes! Every day is different and sometimes I feel worse than others, but I'm trying my best to keep on top of everything and stay positive!**

**And thank you to everyone who has favorited, followed, and especially reviewed this story! Each comment motivates me so much more, and I love to hear from my readers. :)**

**Things are going to start getting interesting in this story, starting with this chapter and the next...**

**Standard disclaimers apply.**

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*A Beautiful Discovery*

"Put your hand here," Pitch said, gesturing to her chest.

Elsa pressed her palm flat over her heart. "Do you feel something stirring there, alongside the beat of your heart?" Pitch asked.

She closed her eyes. "Yes," she murmured after a few moments. "But it's more like a crackling. Like growing ice crystals."

Pitch raised his eyebrows. It made sense; for him, the darkness that dwelled within him was soft and subtle, like the shadows he commanded. Elsa's powers were physical, so of course she would feel their manifestation in a different way.

"Do you still feel it?" he questioned.

"Yes."

"Good. That's your power - where it lives, inside of you."

"It feels kind of funny," she said. "But now that I think of it, it's always been there. Right inside me. Right there."

Pitch nodded. Elsa had never been without her powers, but he still remembered a life with no darkness, in a time before the constant shifting and slithering in his chest.

He much preferred the present to the past.

"Now call it out," he told her.

She lifted her other hand, squinting at her fingers in concentration. "Don't push too hard," he cautioned, and her expression smoothed. A snowflake formed above her hand, much too large and gently spinning, but Pitch didn't care about that. "What did you feel?" he asked.

"When I made the snowflake?" She frowned thoughtfully. "I felt... a vibration in my hand, because the power collected there before taking form." She blinked at him for affirmation. "Right?"

He shrugged. "Half. The energy does collect at the place you release it, yes, but you should have felt it race out from your core first."

Elsa's hopeful face began to wilt, and Pitch knew she hadn't. "Practice summoning your power, and try to feel the energy move and obey." He gestured with his hand, drawing two fingers out from his chest and along his arm. "You may not feel your power respond every time you use it, but you should be aware of it all the same."

"Okay," she agreed, ever the perfect student, and Pitch grinned.

"Just as your heart is your body's center and your weakest point, so too is the core of your power." He tapped her collarbone with one finger, just a little higher than her heart. "Protect it no matter the cost."

Elsa looked down at his slim, dark hand, and then up at him. "You think I'll be attacked," she said.

Pitch's smile widened. _Clever girl_. "I know you will," he said simply.

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**A/N: There will be more.**


	13. A Beautiful Naivete

**A/N: There were so many good comments for the last chapter! :3 Yup, sometime in the near future, things are gonna go down (this chapter is the first indication of it). So here's your fair warning.**

**Standard disclaimers apply.**

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*A Beautiful Naiveté*

Elsa refused to learn how to defend herself.

Pitch barely managed to contain a mocking laugh when Elsa firmly told him that she _would not be so foolish as to allow herself to be in danger._ "I praise your noble intentions, but you won't have a choice in the matter," he'd snapped at her. "The threat will come to _you_, whether you want it to or not."

"Then my guards will protect me," she fired right back. She took a huffy breath and crossed her arms. "But the whole scenario won't happen anyway, because I can take care of myself."

Then Pitch did laugh. _The naive girl is throwing away everything I've taught her, _he thought angrily. _All the years I've spent and the plans I've made will be wasted if she refuses to educate herself. "_Is that so?" he asked sarcastically. "Be sure to let me watch, then, because I won't believe it until I see it."

"I will, Pitch," she told him, her voice haughty, like her father's. "I don't need to know how to attack someone or - worse - _kill_ someone."

He rolled his eyes. "_Please_. Self-righteousness never did anyone good, princess."

She pulled herself tall. "I won't regret my decision, you know."

Pitch snorted. "You will." Somehow or other, she would regret the night she turned away his help. He would _ensure_ it. "Someday, princess, you will."

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**A/N: There will be more.**


	14. A Beautiful Shadow

**A/N: This is another chapter I really like. But then again, I always love it when characters show how freaking awesome t****hey really are. XD**

**Standard disclaimers apply.**

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*A Beautiful Shadow*

One night she asked him to demonstrate his powers.

Pitch looked at her evenly, wondering if she really knew what she was asking. "Do you know," he asked her slowly, "what my abilities are, princess?"

Elsa raised an eyebrow. She was mastering the conceited stare, and she gave Pitch a look befitting her future role as Queen. "I know you use the darkness like a cloak," she said. "You've only come to me during the night, so I can guess that your powers are strongest then, or they are aided by shadow."

Pitch smiled. He cast his voice around the room, making it sound as though he was speaking to her from all sides. "Not quite, princess."

Elsa's eyes widened. She glanced over her shoulder at the sound, and Pitch slid away into the darkness. When Elsa looked back, he was by her side, looming over her. "The shadows are _mine_," he intoned, and she jumped.

She took a few steps back. "So you really can command them?"

"With the merest thought."

Elsa jumped again as her shadow slithered across the floor, elongating into a monstrous, pointed creature with thin claws. It advanced toward her, absorbing the slants of moonlight from the window. Elsa skipped backwards out of its reach, her breath coming out in a gasp.

"It is all a part of me," Pitch said, holding out his hand. Liquid darkness bubbled up from his palm, raw and full of life. "Inside me."

Elsa blinked at him. She opened her mouth to say something, thought better of it, then shut her mouth again.

"I am the dark." He clenched his fist and shards of shadows flew out in all directions, striking her ceiling, walls, bed and floor. "I am the night, Elsa," he murmured, "the darkness to the light. Everything I see, everything I do, everything I _am_ is pitch black."

She nodded once. "You are," she said quietly, agreeing with him. As if she understood.

Pitch wondered if she really did.

"You will be one with your powers, one day," he said. He dropped his arm and looked down at her. "Then everyone will call you only by a title... Ice Princess, perhaps. Or the Snow Queen."

Elsa smiled.

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**A/N: There will be more.**


	15. A Beautiful Clarity

**A/N: And now a chapter from Elsa's perspective! Yup, she's going to have a hand in telling some of the story, too. ^^  
**

**Standard disclaimers apply.**

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*A Beautiful Clarity*

Elsa liked seeing him.

It was strange to think about, but she did.

He was the _Bogeyman_, after all. He was terrifying: thin, like a corpse, and his voice was like satin trailing across dry bones. Sometimes he was cold or cruel or callous. There were even a few moments when she thought that he actually despised her.

But there was no revulsion in his eyes. He always saw _her -_ not her powers, not her lack of control - just _her_.

And most of all, he always came back.

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**A/N: There will be more.**


	16. A Beautiful Dare

**A/N: I thought I would give you guys two chapters today, since the last one was so short. :)**

**Standard disclaimers apply.**

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*A Beautiful Dare*

Elsa was older now, her braid hanging down below her shoulder blades. It swung around as she turned to look at Pitch, as white as falling snow.

"Touch my hand," she said in greeting. She held out her hand palm-up, her skin pale in the dim room.

Pitch tipped his head to the side. "Don't tell me you can't remember what happened when you tried this last time."

Elsa bobbed her head. "Yes, I know - but I've been practicing." She straightened her arm, reaching for him without moving a step.

He snorted, a sarcastic retort on the tip of his tongue - and then he saw the determination in her eyes. So he swallowed the comment and said merely, "very well," and extended his hand.

Elsa didn't flinch away. She grasped his hand, her fingers so pale and small compared to his own. Pitch waited for a few moments in case there was a belated outburst of exploding ice, but none came. "You _have_ been working hard," he said, glancing up at her.

"That's high praise, Pitch Black." A victorious smile broke across Elsa's face. She threaded her fingers through his and squeezed once. "Now that I've gotten my powers under control, they can finally be of some use."

All of Pitch's good humor abruptly faded. _Not to me,_ he thought and wrenched his hand out of her grasp.

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**A/N: There will be more.**


	17. A Beautiful Fear

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and commented, and everyone who likes this story! All the support really helps, and I am so happy for any and all feedback I receive! :D  
**

**And here's another chapter where some interesting stuff goes down...**

**Standard disclaimers apply.**

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*A Beautiful Fear*

"I didn't realize it, when I was younger," Elsa said.

Pitch glanced at her but she was looking away from him, her braid like a long white snake down her back.

"I didn't even stop to think about it. You were just... _you_. Pitch Black." She glanced down at her hands, which were looped around one knee. "You introduced yourself as the Bogeyman, but I'd never considered... what you _were_."

Pitch smiled. He followed her gaze out the window, to a clear night sky with no moon. "And what am I?" he asked softly, teasingly.

"You're... "

Pitch waited.

"You're..." Elsa turned her face away, her hands digging into the fabric of her nightgown.

"Say it," he demanded quietly.

"You're a commander of nightmares. A king."

"Yes."

"You are the darkness... that we all fear."

Pitch glanced at her. The shadows turned her features into a statue, her skin like marble. "I am the dark," he said softly, quoting to her what he had said once before.

"I didn't know," Elsa whispered, and Pitch knew that it wasn't his persona or his abilities that she was referring to. "To exist - to _survive_ by reaping the horrified screams of children, draining them through fear - "

"Don't pity me," he cut in, but his voice was leisurely, satisfied. "I _enjoy_ it."

Elsa shuddered and Pitch smiled. It was good to at last have Elsa realize the truth about him - to be finally recognized for what he _was_.

"Does that change your good opinion of me?" he questioned, sending her a sideways glance.

For a long while Elsa sat there, motionless in the dim light. Then he saw her fingers loosen and she turned back, her face in profile once again. "No," she said, addressing the floor. "It doesn't."

Pitch snorted. Elsa had never outright lied to him before, and now he knew why. "You're terrible liar, princess."

She whirled around to face him. "I'm not lying!"

He looked into her eyes and was taken aback by fierce burning in her eyes. _She _is _telling the truth,_ Pitch realized. _The truth was as difficult for her to say as a lie._

"I'm not lying," Elsa repeated, softer than before. "I think that even though I didn't _know... _I suspected. I mean, who else would come to see me but a destroyer of dreams?" Her self-deprecating joke fell flat even as she spoke, and her shoulders slumped a little.

But Pitch just nodded slowly. "Yes, who but the Nightmare King would pay attention to a girl with darkness in her heart?"

Elsa pursed her lips. "I don't have darkness in my heart."

"Don't you?" he asked, his lips curving up crookedly.

She turned, her mouth already opening in response. But as her gaze met his, her blue eyes flickering over Pitch's face, Elsa slowly shut her mouth. "I... suppose," she said softly, looking away.

Pitch grinned. He kept his knowing comments to himself, but it was a step - the first in a long while - toward his goal for her.

_Of course you have darkness inside you, _he told her silently. _It's buried beneath your loneliness and your misery, your outrage and your frustration. I know you aren't satisfied with this half-life, with this pretend _existence_ where everyone pretends your power isn't real - where _you _aren't even real -_

_The darkness is there, waiting. Wanting you to reach inside and awaken it._

_If only you'd find the desire to_ _use it,_ he thought bitterly and turned away.

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**A/N: There will be more.**


	18. A Beautiful Fracture

**A/N:** **So I have good news and bad news. The good news is that this next week, I am moving to another country to go to graduate school! :)**

**The bad news is that I don't know when I'll have internet access again to post the next chapter, so the next update will be delayed. But this chapter is really long (for this story, at least!) and I hope that it will tide you guys over until I do get some wifi.**

**Until then, please enjoy! :D**

**Standard disclaimers apply.**

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*A Beautiful Fracture*

She was studying again.

For the past several months, Elsa had been reading every night, books spread across her bed. History, law, economics - her study spanned the knowledge she would need when she became queen. "I have to pass a barrage of written and oral exams over the next year," she'd told him on the first evening she began to study. "Different tests are given at different times, so I have to review these texts during the night from now on. At least until the last exam is over, anyway."

"You don't want to study during the day?" Pitch had asked her.

"I can't. I still have all my other classes that I'm expected to complete - as if I'm not studying during the night as well as the day, and I'm still getting proper rest. Well... " Her disgruntled frown faded a little and she glanced at him. "...as much rest as I normally get, anyway."

Pitch smirked at the slight insinuation in her tone. "Would you rather I stopped coming?"

"No, of course not," she'd said hastily, and Pitch's smirk widened.

"The worst part," Elsa had gone on with a sigh, "is that my daytime classes aren't even important. Not like this," she said, gesturing to her _Policy and the Accused_ textbook. "Not things that will actually be relevant when I take the throne."

Pitch chuckled. Elsa was in a bad mood so rarely; he enjoyed hearing the disdain in her words and seeing the glower on her face.

Her eyes had narrowed. "I take it you think that I'll actually use my _choral arts_ skills one day?" she'd demanded.

He laughed again. Little snowflakes sparkled above Elsa in the air when her temper flared. "You don't feel the need to spontaneously express your emotions through song?"

"No," she'd told him shortly. And Pitch, still smiling, had left her to her work.

Each night that he'd visited her since, Elsa had been studying. Sometimes she sat up to greet him, but most times she just glanced up at him, recognizing his presence. At first it didn't bother Pitch, but as time passed, the action began to rankle. Not one night - _not one night_ went by when she didn't look his way. Elsa was to blame, of course - her fearlessness had made her used to him, and her uncanny ability to recognize the moment he entered her room certainly helped - but Pitch was wise enough to understand that he bore equal blame. If he had not come to her so consistently, or spoken to her so familiarly, or if he had only introduced himself to her as the _Nightmare King_, the fear in the darkness, then she would be afraid and truly give him the respect he deserved.

Now Pitch glanced at Elsa. _It seems I've lost my edge with her, _he thought. _I think it's time I stop coming so often_.

He'd come to her so regularly that he'd even seen her on her birthday. It had been an awkward affair; Elsa had half-heartedly shown him the presents from her family - mere trinkets, really - and offered him a slice of a cake that she had hardly touched.

"I wouldn't have guessed that you'd be the kind of girl who tires of her own birthday," Pitch had said, arching an eyebrow at her.

Elsa shook her head. "My parents mean well. And Anna, I'm sure, means the words she writes in my birthday card, but... it doesn't _feel_ like she does."

Pitch waited.

"Everything they say - all the good wishes, all the joy and love that they wrote for me - just seems so... I just can't bring myself to..."

"You think they're lying," Pitch finished for her.

"No!" Elsa had exclaimed, her eyes flashing. She had held his gaze fiercely for a few moments, challenging him, and then her anger faded. Elsa dropped her eyes, her throat working as she swallowed. "They aren't lying, not completely. But I don't believe they really feel as strongly as... as they say they do."

The corner of Pitch's mouth had tipped up at that. "How could they? Your parents only visit when they deem it necessary, and you haven't seen Anna in... what, almost eight years?"

Elsa nodded once.

"They don't know you," he said, his voice like velvet. "They say they wish you well, but do they really mean it when you've been banished from their sight?"

She swallowed hard. "I know," she said quietly. "I know."

"Little wonder that you hate birthdays," Pitch concluded softly.

Elsa shut her eyes. "It's just another reminder of how alone I am," she murmured, "and that each birthday is basically just like every other day. Except that today, all I feel is my family's pity."

Her words were bitter. Pitch smiled but he didn't answer, watching as Elsa pondered the darkness of her own thoughts.

She had stayed quiet for a while, her mouth twisted into a little frown. Then she had opened her eyes and looked at Pitch and said calmly, "but you're here."

It was so sudden that Pitch had blinked, uncertain what she was hinting at. "Don't tell me," he drawled, falling back on his usual sarcasm, "that you've only just now noticed - "

"No, I mean that _you're_ here. _You _came, at least." Elsa smiled at him, one corner a little higher than the other - a timid mimic of his satisfied smile.

And Pitch had only stood there, stunned by her strange smile and the insinuation in her words.

Now Pitch raised an eyebrow, remembering that day. _Yes,_ he told himself, watching as Elsa stifled a yawn with the back of her hand. _For a girl who will not learn the valuable skills I have to offer, it appears that I've wasted too much time on her__. She might even think that she's special - a favorite of mine, since I've come to her for so long._

Elsa _was_ special, of course - but she didn't need to suspect it was true.

She couldn't know that _he_ thought she was special, despite her stubbornness.

"You haven't noticed me yet," he said aloud, and grinned when Elsa started. "You really must be tired tonight."

Elsa looked up at him. Her face was pale with exhaustion, but her blue eyes were bright. "Pitch, hello. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude."

He gestured with one hand. "If that's your way of being rude, I'd hate to see you try and insult me."

She gave him a weary smile. "Fair enough."

Pitch watched as Elsa stretched, unfolding her legs from under her textbook to point gracefully with her bare toes. "At least all this studying is almost over," she sighed, leaning back against her pillows. "My last exam is in a week and after I pass it, I will be a Queen in all but name."

"Don't you have to wait until after your parents abdicate and you come of age?" he asked dryly.

Elsa tugged idly on her braid. "Details," she said airily, smiling at him.

_That smile_. Pitch's eyes narrowed slightly, all his attention shifting to the broad curve of Elsa's lips. There was something dangerous about that smile. It was too friendly, too amiable, too _happy_. It was what Pitch had been afraid of before: she was far too comfortable with him.

But there was something else about Elsa that alarmed him. It was in her smile, yes, but it was also in her eyes and in the tilt of her head, and in the way her slim fingers were playing with her hair. It was... something. Something he couldn't articulate, but knew had the potential to be very, very treacherous.

_You've been keeping secrets from me, Elsa,_ Pitch accused her silently. _It seems you have another power that I wasn't aware of._

"What is it?" Elsa had caught his dark expression and she looked at him, her eyebrows wrinkling.

For the smallest moment, hatred surged through Pitch - blistering and strong. _How dare she look at me so innocently, with that wide-eyed concern - ! _

Then his temper cooled as his aloof facade took over, and Pitch gave her a smile as sweet as it was false. "I came to tell you that my work has changed. I've been remiss in my obligations, and I'm needed on other parts of the globe. I won't be back to Arendelle for some time."

Elsa's mouth had fallen open as he'd spoken and now she stared, her hand frozen on her braid. "You're... leaving?"

Pitch fought back a derisive snort. The princess must be more exhausted than he'd thought. "Yes," he enunciated, as if she were a child. "That's what I'm saying: you won't see me for a while."

She pushed herself up, her spine going stiff. "But - But for how long? Pitch, when will I see you again?"

"When I come back."

"And when will that be?" Elsa's voice had a slight edge to it, like she bordering on panic.

Pitch hissed softly, pushed to irritation once again. "_When I come back_," he repeated in a hard voice.

Elsa bit her bottom lip, wincing at his tone. "Okay. Okay, I - I understand."

He examined her face for any of the shadows he had seen a few months ago, when she'd whispered, _"you are the darkness... that we all fear."_ But the only expression on Elsa's pale face was a resigned acceptance.

Elsa nodded once. She swallowed, and nodded again. "Then... then come back soon. Pitch." She tried to smile, but it was weaker than the one she had given him before.

Pitch bowed to her, sweeping his hand out in an elegant gesture of obeisance. "As you wish, princess," he murmured, the words saccharine and dark. He turned away without looking at her, so he wouldn't have to see her face a moment longer than he had to.

And Elsa let him go.

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**A/N: There will be more.**


	19. A Beautiful Pain

**A/N: Hey guys! I bet you were wondering if you were ever going to hear from me again, since it's been two weeks from my last update. Well, don't worry - it takes more than moving to another country, a stubborn wifi system, bureaucratic problems and homesickness to keep me from abandoning a story!**

**I haven't been able to reply to everyone's lovely comments from the last chapter, but I'll get to them, I promise! As I said, my new internet connection is being kind of tricky, so it might be a few days before you see another post from me again, but I'll do my best to be as prompt as possible.**

**Standard disclaimers apply.**

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*A Beautiful Pain*

And Elsa let him go.

Her emotions burned in her chest, her jaw clenched so tightly with the desire to call him back, to call his name - but she didn't.

Instead she just sat there and watched him go.

_He has duties_, she reminded herself as she stared at her book and attempted to go back to her reading. _I was lucky he could come to me at all. I was lucky that he made time to see me so much. I was _lucky_, and I didn't even know it_.

But her thoughts were of little comfort, and all efforts to continue reading were in vain. When the sun's pearly rays began to color the sky pink above the mountains, Elsa finally pushed her book away and curled up into bed. She knew she should try to sleep for an hour or two, at least until her breakfast was delivered to her door, but...

_I can't_, she thought. _I just can't_.

Instead she shut her eyes and wondered when Pitch Black would return.

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**A/N: There will be more.**

**And please leave a review! They really make my day :)**


	20. A Beautiful Waiting

**A/N: And so Elsa begins her long wait...**

**Standard disclaimers apply.**

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*A Beautiful Waiting*

The time passed.

_Days._

She continued to wait for him as night fell. She listened hard, her ears tuned to the soft shuffle his boots made on her polished floor and the heavy feeling of settling, as her room bent and adjusted to the gravity of his eldritch being. She was always ready to spring out of bed, a smile curling the edge of her lips as she thought about the moment when he finally arrived -

And then one night Elsa finally realized: Pitch was not coming back soon.

_Weeks_.

Elsa thought of him often during the day. She passed her exams with ease and was finally able to get a good nights' rest, should she want it.

She didn't. She wanted to talk to Pitch.

Instead she imagined what she would say to him when he finally came back. She would welcome him and ask how his work went. In his usual modus operandi, Pitch would probably shrug off her comment with a vague answer of his own. Like usual, he would tell her nothing of his duties that had kept them apart.

That was fine; Elsa was used to that. So she'd tell him she'd missed him - which was true.

And he - how would he react?

She wanted to embrace him when he returned. That seemed too forward of her, but...

_But I_ want _to hug him_, she thought. _Touch him_.

Her cheeks burned at her own thoughts, but it was true.

_Months._

She kept his voice in her mind - savoring it.

_He will come back_, she told herself. _He will_.

The seasons were changing; winter was coming again. _The season Pitch first came_.

She wanted to see him. She wanted him to _come._

But Pitch did not return.

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**A/N: There will be more.**


	21. A Beautiful Hope

**A/N: Wow, thank you for all the wonderful feedback, you guys! :D I just love reading your reviews and theories about what's going to happen in this story. I have the best readers. ^^**

**Standard disclaimers apply.**

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*A Beautiful Hope*

Sometimes Elsa wondered if Pitch was ever coming back.

It was funny, because when she was a little girl, it seemed like Pitch came to her room all the time - every night, almost. She had become used to being alone, used to listening to her little sister crying through the walls and knowing they would always be apart. _It's for the best_, her parents had said. _It's my punishment_, she'd told herself, and so she learned to live without a friend.

And then Pitch came.

His appearance had been so strange and sudden that she'd thought he was a dream; it seemed so odd that the Bogeyman would come to see her, of all people. But then he returned - again and again- and she realized it was no mistake or fluke; he came because he _wanted_ to come.

For a while Elsa had feared that her parents would find out - would they banish him? Execute him for his crimes? - but they never did. Not even Anna knew about Pitch. It was like a secret. _He_ was a secret.

Her secret.

Pitch was a friend - at least at first. The more he came to visit her, the more their relationship changed. He became a mentor, then a comforter, then a voice of practicality and reason, then a trusted confidant, and now...

_And now_, Elsa wondered, _what are you to me now, Pitch Black?_

The trouble was that she had come to depend on him. She relied on him to talk to her, to give her that wry look of his, to knowingly look over at her with those golden eyes...

Elsa let out a slow breath. To think that she had once taken his appearances for granted - taken his heavy glances, the velveteen cadence of his speech, his strong profile and smirking mouth, all for granted - it killed her a little bit, each time she thought of it.

_Come back_, she thought to him in the darkness. _Come back._

And then it became a whisper. A plea. "Come back. Pitch..."

_Let it be tonight. Please, let this be the night._

"Please come back to me," she called.

But if his shadows heard her, there was no reply.

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**A/N: There will be more.**


	22. A Beautiful Fantasy

**A/N: Hooray, over 100 reviews! :D I'm so flattered, everybody! Thank you so much!**

**Standard disclaimers apply.**

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*A Beautiful Fantasy*

Her life didn't seem real without Pitch.

_ It's a dream_, she thought._ I'll wake up and he'll be here, like he never even left._

_ He'll be standing in the corner, watching me._

_ Waiting for me to wake up._

Her life was so dull without him. Each day was monotonous, each day was long and lonely. Anna never knocked anymore, and a part of Elsa wished that she would; Elsa wanted to believe, even if it wasn't true, that Anna hadn't forgotten about her. That she still _cared_.

And part of her just wanted to hear the sound of the knock, to break the silence.

She didn't mind the solitude - not when Pitch was there to interrupt it. But he wasn't.

He hadn't come for a long time.

_ Remember, _she told herself. _Remember the things he taught you. The instructions he gave._

She tried - she really did. She practiced controlling her powers between her hours of study, and at night when she couldn't sleep. She felt the soft crackle of her ice racing through her like lightning and concentrated on shaping it, molding it into something tangible, something that matched the construction in her mind -

But she could never hold it. Without Pitch, her control snapped. She felt lost and distracted, her mind a tumble of emotions that centered always, _always_ on him.

Just him.

_ Remember how he used to stand before you, his hands clasped behind his back. Remember the way he used to look at you, like he was waiting for you to figure out a puzzle. Remember the way he used to smile, as if he knew a secret too tantalizing to share._

_ Remember. Remember him._

And she did. She remembered the way he looked, and the striding way he used to walk, as if he owned the very carpet he walked on. She remembered the lazy arrogance in the way he used to speak, and the particular tilt of his head when he was thinking about something. She remembered his laughter, as rare as it was soothing, the sound of it softening his voice and sending waves of pleased warmth through Elsa – that _she_ had been the one to spark such a reaction out of him.

And she remembered his hands, slim and long and grey against her own pale skin. There could have been no greater visual sign of their differences, but it had always fascinated Elsa. His touches were firm but brief: deftly moving her hands to a better summoning position or tapping her heart or forehead with a sure finger. His skin was never warm or cold, as she knew her own body temperature ran. When he touched her, she felt the absence of life and death – just the oblivion and apathy of darkness running through his veins.

Elsa imagined his hand reaching out to brush her own outstretched one, a simple meeting of flesh against flesh. _When you come back, _Elsa thought, _I will greet you just like this, with my own arms stretched wide._

_ And you, you will say…_

That they were two of the same kind of people, cursed with magic and abilities nearly beyond their own power to control. But together, they could defeat their inner demons. Pitch was her guide, her support in every way. Elsa couldn't have survived without him. Oh, she knew that without a doubt. His encouragement and lessons when she was a child helped her find control, and her memories of him now helped keep her sane.

_Surely, Pitch, you know how much I needed you._

_ How much I still need you._

_ So when you come back – and you will, _she thought, the faint traces of a smile tugging at her lips. _You will come back to me – you will take my hand._

_ And you will say: our differences have made us one and the same._

Then we will never have reason to part.

* * *

**A/N: As a special treat for my 100+ reviews, I'll give you a little hint about the next chapter: Pitch comes back. :)**

**There will be more.**


	23. A Beautiful Return

**A/N: Well, here it is! The chapter you've all been waiting for! And because I love you guys so much, look how long it is! :D Over 1700 words!**

**Enjoy...**

**Standard disclaimers apply.**

* * *

*A Beautiful Return*

He came back to her two days after the funeral of her parents.

Elsa felt the change in the air when he arrived, though it took several long moments for the reality of it to sink into her mind. Then she slowly sat up on her bed, her eyes warily but quickly finding where he stood in the middle of the room, his tall silhouette appearing exactly as she had imagined hundreds of times before.

"Pitch?" she breathed. Her voice, raw from helpless bouts of tears, loss, horror and panic, was barely audible in the still room.

But Pitch heard. He turned his head slightly in her direction, all the while studying the violent outburst of ice and frost that had destroyed the furnishings of her room. "It _is_ different," he admitted musingly. "I can't say the look is _aesthetically pleasing,_ but it is different. I'd actually say it suits you more now than it did before." He turned to look at her, the smallest hint of teasing sarcasm in his expression.

Elsa sucked in her breath. She clenched her hands in the folds of her quilt, vowing that she _wouldn't_ break down in front of him, no matter what. "So you've heard then," she said quietly, as evenly as she could manage. "My parents…"

"As a matter of fact, I have." His golden eyes darted up to meet hers, the sheer _heaviness_ of his gaze nearly stealing the air from Elsa's lungs.

"Oh…?"

"You're Queen now," Pitch said, and Elsa started.

"No… no, not yet. I won't be, officially, for three more years."

He raised an eyebrow. "What about your disregard for _technicalities_?"

Had she really said that? It had been so long ago… "I… don't mind it now," she said slowly, sliding off the bed.

Pitch's face remained dubious, and for a few moments Elsa struggled to find the words to explain. How could she say that without her parents, her future as reigning monarch seemed not only incredibly real, but incredibly _near_, even if it was a few years away? As infrequent as their visits were, her father and mother did come to see her every once in a while, and the knowledge that her visitors would never return had made the world seem more desolate and lonely somehow. Besides, her parents _knew_ her – they had cared about her, despite the curse of her ice powers. She never needed to pretend that her frightening abilities didn't scare her, since her parents had been all too aware of her struggles.

And besides, her father's mantra – _conceal, don't feel, don't let it show_ – had begun to make more sense in the years of Pitch's absence. She had practiced it, a little, and found that it helped to control her powers.

The phrase also helped to stem her intense feelings of longing when she thought of the Nightmare King.

Pitch was still looking at her inquisitively, and Elsa finally just shook her head. "It doesn't matter. The crown won't pass to me for a few years yet, and there's nothing I can do to change it."

He smiled sardonically. "Don't you just _love_ the bureaucratic problems of society?"

"It's alright; I can deal with them." She took a few steps forward and glanced up into his face. "But… Pitch…"

He waited.

"Pitch, it's… it's been so long," she whispered.

He stiffened a little, though at her words or proximity, Elsa couldn't tell. She stopped short, but the words poured out from her anyway, a flood that she couldn't hold back. "How are you? You look exactly the same – exactly the same as I remember."

His eyes swept over her face and then to the top of her head, cautiously measuring. "You're taller."

"I hoped you would come again. How – how are things? You left to attend to your neglected duties, to other parts of the world." She took another step forward and was relieved when Pitch didn't recoil. "Are they alright now? I mean, do you think you can… will you be able to stay longer this time?"

Pitch blinked, giving her a look she had never seen before – one that held nothing, absolutely nothing inside it. "Perhaps."

Elsa held out her hand, ignoring the way his eyes snapped between her arm and her face, as if he was trying to understand what the action meant. But Elsa's heart was beating too fast to allow for disappointment, and she tried to banish her sudden nervousness with a smile. "You've been gone so long," she said softly. "I know you've been busy, and – well, things have happened while you were away, but… but still, not a day went by when I… when I didn't… "

_Just say it_, she begged herself. How many countless times had she envisioned and dreamed about this moment? Yet now she was trembling, her outstretched fingers visibly shaking in the air. Elsa closed her hand in a light fist and then opened it again, edging a gentle step closer.

_Just say it. Just_ tell _him._

"How could I _not_ think of you?" she asked. "You're my teacher, my – my friend." She caught herself after the small word stumble by inclining her head. "And… you left so suddenly… "

Pitch was silent.

Elsa waited for him to say something, _anything_, and she swallowed hard against a dry mouth. He had never been this quiet, had he? Or had she just forgotten?

Was it _her_ – did she say something?

_No_, she thought, her heart rebelling against the idea. _No, it can't be, that's not it_ –

"Pitch, please take my hand," Elsa said softly. She stared down at the hem of his cloak and then her feet, her woven stockings just peeking out from under her long skirt.

There were several seconds of agonizing stillness where Elsa refused to look up, willing him to step forward and touch her hand –

And then he did.

Relief spread through Elsa's body the moment his long fingers curled around hers, and her shoulders sagged a little. "Thank heaven," she sighed, tilting her head up to meet his. She gave him a bright smile. "For a moment I thought you weren't going to – "

"That's enough," Pitch cut across her. He ripped his hand out of Elsa's, and her palm stung at the violence of it.

"What – " she began, but Pitch again interrupted.

"Don't think I'm unaware of what you're trying to do, _your highness_," he said mockingly. "I can see past your cleverness and your disguise of innocence."

_Disguise of innocence…?_ Elsa's mouth fell open in amazement. She had never tried to deceive Pitch in her life. Surely he didn't think she was foolish enough to even try? "I don't know what you're – "

"Oh, but you _do_, Elsa. You know very well what I'm talking about. It's your pure glances, your little smiles and your fluttering eyes – even your _voice_ bends to your will." He scoffed and strode away before abruptly whirling around again after a few steps to glare accusingly. "Tell me, it is a self-taught skill, or it is an instructed course that you never bothered to tell me about?"

She gaped at him, trying to understand the reason for his anger and mystifying blame. "You think…. I'm attempting to manipulate you?" she asked, hurt and outrage fighting to rise past her cool façade. How could he think that of her? How, how, how? Had she ever given him any reason to suspect her? How dare he think she was twisting their friendship so she could _use_ him!

"_Manipulation_ - if that's what you want to call it," he said scathingly, and Elsa swallowed hard against his cold words. "But your efforts are wasted on me – your tricks, your _feminine snares_ hold no power for someone who has no heart."

The realization left Elsa staggering in astonishment. _Not manipulation_, she thought numbly. _He thinks I'm trying to seduce him._

It shocked her, because she hadn't even been _trying_. No, not even that – she didn't even know the _first thing_ about tempting a man. How could she be doing it if she didn't know how?

And yet, the thought that her mysterious skills were somehow working on Pitch made a blush rise to her cheeks.

His golden eyes narrowed, as if her reaction had been the response he'd been waiting for. "As I thought," he said, his lips twisting in a poisonous smile.

Elsa shook her head, trying to think clearly despite all the warmth and pleasure that was rapidly expanding inside her. "Pitch, no, that wasn't what I – I mean, I wasn't intentionally… "

He shook his head. When his gaze fell on her again, there was a decisiveness in the angle of his jaw and a void – that same terrible _nothing_ stare that he gave her before – in the depths of his eyes. "I have to say, I'm so… _disappointed_," he bit out, and Elsa flinched at the acid in his tone. "This is the last time you will see me, Princess Elsa of Arendelle."

No. No no no no no –

Elsa gasped so quickly that her breath became stuck in her throat. "Pitch," she coughed out, "no, you can't – "

"_Can't_ I?" he snarled, a warning glinting in his eyes. He side-stepped into the shadows and vanished, leaving so fast that Elsa's desperate words echoed in the silence, sounding lonely and forlorn.

"Don't leave! Pitch, I think I – "

She caught herself before she could finish, and her head dropped onto her chest as her eyes quickly filled with shocked tears.

_Pitch, I think I… I think I love you._

* * *

**A/N: Well, did their reunion happen the way you thought it would? Any and all thoughts are welcome! :)**

**There will be more.**


	24. A Beautiful Resolve

**A/N: Wow! I got some varied feedback from you guys over the past few days. It was interesting to read all your different reactions and what you expected might happen. With a pairing like Pitch and Elsa, you can assume that things won't be easy for them.**

**I think we can all agree, though: Pitch was a jerk. :)**

**Standard disclaimers apply.**

* * *

*A Beautiful Resolve*

Her hope, faint as it had been, died after a week.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror above her bureau. There was a delicate sheen of lacy frost that encrusted one corner and all down one side, but otherwise the glass remained unscathed. She looked at herself from the undamaged half, forcing herself not to look away.

Her eyes looked back at her, holding no emotion. They were dark in the pale blue of early morning, and she gazed at them for a few moments before looking down at her face.

Pale. Thin. Her collarbone made a deep shadow against the base of her throat. Her freckles, normally almost invisible in her creamy complexion, stood out in a sandy dusting along her skin.

Her hair was like streams of moonlight cascading down her back. She pulled one lock over one shoulder, concealing her bony shoulder.

"You," she told herself, "are out of control."

She was barely eating. Barely sleeping. The palace staff had noticed; one or two of them had tentatively asked through the door if the princess was feeling ill or if the food didn't suit her. No one mentioned her cries of frustration and deep sorrow, or the way she sobbed herself into fitful dreams and nightmares, but she was sure someone had heard. The palace walls weren't _that_ thick.

Elsa looked herself in the eyes, forcing her voice to be firm. Like iron. "He isn't coming back," she said.

The words hurt - in a way, she thought they always would – but they were the truth.

She needed to stop living in dreams.

"Get it together, Elsa," she told herself softly. "You need to move on."

And starting today, she would.

Elsa pulled back her hair and separated it into strands – one, two, three. Using a long ribbon to hold her work in place, she slowly braided her hair and then wrapped it around the crown of her head, securing it into place. When she lowered her hands and surveyed her effort, the girl looking back at her made her breath stop.

She looked like her mother.

Elsa inhaled slowly and straightened her shoulders. Yes, Pitch was gone – but that didn't mean she had to fall apart. She had a responsibility to her people, to the kingdom. In three years she would be Queen, and she owed it to her country to be the best monarch she could be.

She would not let her mother or father down.

Elsa made herself smile. It wasn't a real smile, but she would wear it with enough confidence and sincerity that her people would believe it was.

And to be a capable queen, she had to learn to hide her powers.

She opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of gloves – the last gift from her father. She slipped them on; the doeskin fit perfectly, as if they were a second skin.

The perfect concealment.

"I won't let anyone know," she vowed softly.

* * *

**A/N: There will be more.**


	25. A Beautiful Endeavor

**A/N: Hello everyone! Thank you so much for all of the comments and reviews! It really makes my day to read them. I got some good ones for the last chapter (mostly "yeah, Elsa, be strong!"), so I hope you'll like this one as well. :D**

**And now we're seeing Elsa become the woman she was in the beginning of Frozen...**

**Standard disclaimers apply.**

* * *

*A Beautiful Endeavor*

It was easy to appear calm and collected in front of the mirror.

It was harder to maintain that façade in front of others.

As the princess regent, it was her duty to oversee the ruling of the kingdom with the guidance of her councilors. She began to hold small audiences for a few hours a day, where she judged the major grievances that the courts passed on to her. In his reign, her father had opened the throne room to the public – courtesans and commoners alike – and all were welcome to hear the dictates of the king. Elsa wasn't quite so daring. She saw the petitioners one at a time in the cloisters of the cathedral, the columns and vaulted ceiling helping Elsa feel as if the room was bigger than it actually was.

The majority of the time, Elsa was perfectly fine. She sat stiff-backed in her chair, a gentle smile of encouragement on her face. She seriously considered the various plights that were brought before her – everything from land disputes, accusations of tax evasion or thievery, to the plans for the end-of-summer festival and a new vendor's location for the sale of mead – and gave her replies thoughtfully, with all the knowledge she had on the matter. The people seemed pleased with the fairness of her decisions, and some even begged her pardon to mention that they liked the intimacy of the smaller audiences better, since their problems felt more private. Elsa took their comments with a smile, glad that despite her years as a recluse from her people, she seemed approachable and benevolent.

But then something would happen. Something would _always_ happen, and Pitch would come to her mind.

Often his memory was triggered by something small – _and_, Elsa admitted to herself later, _insignificant_: a cloth merchant who had the same smooth stride; a bishop who looked at her with the same tilt to his head; the undertaker who, despite the mud stains on his black clothes, still reminded Elsa of Pitch because of his slim, towering form.

The sudden familiarity always struck her hard – _Pitch_, her mind cried – and even his name was a small dagger to her heart. Her body instantly reacted; her hands clenched in her gloves, her fingers digging into the arms of her chair. Her breaths quickened. She felt the pulse of her magic awakening to her budding panic, beginning to stir beneath her skin.

_Don't feel_, she told herself, and took a slow breath. _Don't feel anything_.

She made herself look at the petitioners, made herself really _see_ them. She looked into their white faces, and made herself focus on the nervousness that always surfaced under her scrutiny. She made herself see the differences, the changes. They weren't the same. _No_, she told herself. _They aren't like him._

_They aren't like Pitch at all_.

And then she felt her heart begin to slow. She was in control again, and the danger of an icy reaction had passed.

_Don't let them know_, she chanted to herself, pleased she had kept her secret hidden. _Never let them know._

Then there were other times – worse times, horrible times – when suddenly, for no reason at all, she remembered him.

His voice.

His eyes.

His smile.

His touch.

In public she wouldn't react. She _forbade_ herself from reacting. But her body always stiffened, the horror and sadness and _absence_ of him rocking her to the core. Once her mind overcame the initial shock and trauma of the merciless memory, she snapped her smile into place, trying hard to ignore the tendrils of crystal and frost that crept through her gloves and down the edge of her chair.

_Don't feel_, she told herself desperately.

_Don't feel, don't feel, don't feel…_

And then she made herself try to stop feeling. The thoughts of Pitch eventually faded, deprived of their heavy influence.

Then the world was at peace again.

But when Elsa was alone, she let the tears fall silently down her face. _Don't feel_, she thought, but it was useless; the words didn't seem to have as much power when the battle was solely in her mind.

_Don't feel. Stop feeling things for him._

_Just stop._

* * *

It was a difficult thing to simply turn off her feelings, Elsa found as the weeks turned into months, then into years.

It was difficult to crush her emotions, but she finally succeeded.

She learned not to feel.

She moved on. She changed.

Memories of the Nightmare King plagued her less and less. The details she had preserved of him began to fade.

She got over her heartache.

_You can do this, Elsa_, she told herself as she looked in the mirror the night before her coronation. _You can live your life without feeling. You've made it this far – it won't be hard._

_You can live without Pitch Black in your life._

She learned to conceal the truth, even from herself.

* * *

**A/N: There will be more.**


	26. A Beautiful Magnetism

**A/N: I have a feeling you guys will like this chapter. Yup, 100% positive. :)**

**Standard disclaimers apply.**

* * *

*A Beautiful Magnetism*

She looked exactly the same as she had three years ago.

It was both a consolation and a curse.

He watched her from the safety of the shadows of a peaked window, the wavery panes of glass giving the room's occupants the faint impression of being underwater. His eyes flickered over the twirling dancers, ignoring the soft strains of music that dictated their dull repetitive steps, and shifted to the side so he could see Elsa better.

She was conspicuous, a statue among the flurry of movement. She stood tall, any sign of anxiety that she had worn earlier long-since vanished. Now her face bore an expression of serene calm, her hands clasped loosely on her lap.

In gloves.

She was wearing gloves.

It was a detail that Pitch had missed the first time he saw her, when she walked sedately up the aisle of the cathedral. The cardinal had droned his boring words, then motioned for Elsa to proceed. She picked up the scepter and globus cruciger and turned to face the audience, her shoulders turning rigid, as they always did when she was apprehensive. Pitch saw her hands tighten, saw the sparkle of frost spreading beneath her bare fingers –

And then she turned and dropped the symbols of her new-found authority and slipped on the gloves.

_She's forgotten everything I taught her. _It made his fingers twitch with annoyance. _She's given in to her parents' old way of thinking. How insolent, how _arrogant_ of her, to think she could accomplish more than all my teachings and instructions._

_She's useless to me now. She will never fill her potential for transformation and power._

It was true; for all his intents and purposes, Elsa was a gamble he had lost. She was irretrievable. Wasted. And yet, for some reason…

Pitch couldn't leave her alone.

Just like today, when he had been drawn back to Arendelle, to her coronation, despite his anger and resentment. A greater part of him had been unable to resist the uncontrollable pull.

The pull toward _her._

_Elsa's power to allure is only getting stronger, _Pitch thought. _She is more dangerous to me now than ever before._

That thought alone should have spurred Pitch to turn away, leaving her once and for all, as he had promised three years ago. But then he looked back at her slim form, dignified in her dark gown and sparkling crown, and his desire to leave flickered and died.

Even just the sight of her had complete control over him.

He had to admit she looked well; compared to her younger sister who came, stumbling, to the throne accompanied by a handsome young man, she looked cold. Beautiful. Like a Queen.

_A natural pair: the Snow Queen to me, the King of Nightmares._

The thought was sudden, unbidden. Pitch hissed, swiftly banishing the idea from his mind. Once, maybe, that could have been true. If only Elsa had trusted in his teachings. If only she could be _useful._

_And she isn't_, he told himself again, firmly. _She's just a snare in female form. A distraction._

_But what a distraction she is._

He turned his gaze back to the dance floor. Something was happening; Elsa was pushing through the crowd, heading for the doors. Her sister grabbed her hand, snatching the glove right off. Pitch saw the panic on Elsa's face, her distress as she vainly implored Anna to return it. He wondered how much longer she could contain her ice when the entire room was staring at her and Anna was shouting –

Elsa made a wide gesture with her hand and spikes exploded from the ground, reaching like claws toward the crowd and her sister, who leapt back in horror. The gasp from the ballroom carried to Pitch's ears, even on the other side of the window. "Well now," he murmured, leaning forward. Elsa had just inadvertently revealed herself. What would she do next?

For a breathless moment the young Queen froze, her back against the door. Then she threw it open and flew out, her cape billowing behind her.

Pitch followed, a shadow in the night. He trailed Elsa as she tore through the entry hall and out into the palace courtyard, where her subjects were waiting. He saw her fear escalate as they approached her, enclosed around her – Pitch could _taste_ her raw hysteria as the fountain twisted the flowing water into a sculpture of ice, once again revealing her secret. Elsa ran then, and Pitch ran with her, the darkness beneath her steps as she fled across the fjord and into the mountains. He stayed with her, undetected and silent as she climbed higher into the embrace of her natural clime, until the storms and winter gales hid her entire world from sight.

He stayed with her until her mood lifted. He wanted to see for himself the smile he could hear in her voice. He watched, incredulous, as she let the wind take her cape, watched her laugh as she tested her powers then let them flow. It was all natural, now – they were a part of her, as equally as she was part of them. Pitch looked on as she created a staircase, then a sweeping floor, mighty walls, and elegant chandelier: a castle made entirely of ice.

And then the sun's rays began to appear over the mountains behind him – had the night really passed so quickly? – and she appeared on the balcony. Gone was the meek girl, so refined and shy in her somber blue gown. Now Elsa stood tall in the morning light, glittering like all the stars in the sky. She grinned, pride and pleasure making her look older. Confident. She swept her eyes across the snow and ice – her new kingdom – before sweeping back inside, trails of crystalline snowflakes fluttering in a long train behind her. Pitch stood in the shadows – the little bit that still remained in the blazing light of dawn – as if paralyzed. For the first time in a very, very long time, he felt… lost.

He had no words. No will to stir.

Elsa, and all that she had become, was utterly…

"Perfect," he whispered.

* * *

**A/N: ^_^**

**Love it? I think so.**

**There will be more.**


	27. A Beautiful Nocturne

**A/N: I'm so happy with all of your responses to the last chapter! :D You guys have stuck with me for a while, and now you're getting what you've all been hoping/waiting for.**

**And now, Elsa's side of things...**

**Standard disclaimers apply.**

* * *

*A Beautiful Nocturne*

Elsa remembered those first few nights after Pitch had last left her, his words bitter and harsh. She remembered how, in his absence, her mind had mocked her, threatened to drive her mad.

_"__I'm so… disappointed."_

His voice had echoed, again and again, always cold, always excruciating in its bluntness. Once the memory of him had pleased her, but then it came to mock her. So cruel. The King of Nightmares: truly a man with no heart.

_"__This is the last time you will see me, Princess Elsa of Arendelle."_

She remembered digging her fingers into her hair, choking out a strangled scream. His voice was pain. _Torture._

She remembered the terrible heartache.

"But no longer," Elsa murmured to herself.

Here in her castle, she was a true Queen. Her powers obeyed her and Pitch's memory could have no sway over her.

She was strong. She was her own woman.

Pitch's teachings had failed. Her father's instructions had only made things worse. Now it was _her_ turn to live her life the way she wanted, _her_ turn to be in command.

Elsa glanced at her reflection in the smooth ice. She was smiling; she hadn't smiled unknowingly like this for a long time. She hadn't realized it, but the smile transformed her. It made her look different. Feel different. It changed her.

Yes, _changed_ – she liked the thought of that.

_I have changed_, she said silently, tilting her head back to look at herself from under her eyelashes. _I will never be what I was._

_So come to me now, Pitch Black. _Elsa's smile widened in challenge_. Look at me and tell me that I am still a young girl, trembling in all my naïve love for you._

_Tell me you are disappointed in what I have become now._

"Lie to me, if you can," Elsa murmured softly. "I dare you."

_And perhaps then we will see if I have mastered the skill of 'seduction' that you once accused me of._

* * *

**A/N: There will be more. Oh yes, there will be more. ;)**


	28. A Beautiful Seduction

**A/N: Hey everyone!**

**Contrary to the title of this chapter, nothing too scandalous happens... _yet_. But I may as well take this opportunity to remind you all of the brief note I wrote at the beginning of this story. I'm not changing the rating of this story to M, but just a heads-up to any sensitive readers that I have: the next couple chapters are a little bit intense. **

**I'm interested to see what everyone's reactions will be - to this chapter, yes, but also the next ones as well. :)**

**Standard disclaimers apply.**

* * *

*A Beautiful Seduction*

He came.

The corner of Elsa's mouth curved upward. _I know you too well_. "Pitch Black," she said, turning to look at him. "It's been a long time."

Pitch was looking at her, his arms clasped behind his back. He looked as calm and collected as ever, Elsa noted – and as she glanced over at him, she refused to let her eyes linger on his face or his slim body. Yes, Pitch looked _exactly_ the same as he always had, except… she narrowed her eyes. Except there was something subtle, something a little different about him than she remembered.

When Pitch finally spoke, his words echoed what was in her mind. "You've changed."

_So I have. _"Of course," she said lightly, shrugging one bare shoulder. "I wasn't going to stay a young girl forever."

"No," he said. "No, you didn't."

Then his golden eyes flickered up to hers and Elsa froze, trapped by the timelessness in his gaze. She remembered seeing those eyes across the room in the darkness when she was a child, and then again when he taught her how to draw out her power, and again as, smiling, he'd called her _Ice Princess._

_Enough, _Elsa told herself fiercely. _He has no power over me, not anymore._

He was still looking at her, those perceptive eyes watching her face carefully. Elsa inwardly tensed, wondering what he had seen. "Elsa - " he began.

"So," she spoke across him, striding forward. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit? Are we going to talk about the way I've changed? Are we going to talk about my palace made of ice?" She threw up one hand, gesturing to the chandelier as it shone in the pale white glare of noonday sun.

When Pitch didn't immediately reply, Elsa turned on her heel, her glittering train sweeping across the floor. "Or do you want to talk about something else entirely?" she asked, and though she kept her voice as airy and nonchalant as she could, an undertone of darkness crept through.

Pitch tilted his head slightly. "Let's talk about your ice castle. I witnessed its construction. It was… inspiring." He smiled slightly.

Elsa stared at him. She tried to imagine him watching her – that voyeur, of course he would – but somehow the thought of it made her heart flutter a bit.

_No. I don't care if he did see me. _"So you were spying, then?" she questioned, allowing a little of her anger to come through.

"I came for your coronation," he said.

Those words were utterly unexpected and Elsa's eyes widened. _He… he came for… ?_

He was stirring up her feelings again, those feelings that she swore to herself didn't exist, that she would never acknowledge. Elsa raised her chin, fighting for poise, for control. _Never, _she told herself, _never, never again!_

"Did you?" Elsa forced a little laugh. It was musical and charming – a complete contrast to the turmoil in her heart. "What did you expect to see? A scared woman, controlled by her own fears?"

"I did," he said, and at Elsa's raised eyebrow, he smirked. "Fear is my specialty, you know."

"But I didn't stay that way," Elsa defended.

"No," Pitch admitted. "You embraced your powers and accepted them. You left the restricting society of your world to make your own future."

Elsa gazed, unblinking, and Pitch again smiled – but this time it was his approving smile, the one a younger Elsa had always worked so hard to catch a glimpse of. Pitch always looked more genuine then, even if it was just for a moment.

"I'm… proud of you," Pitch said haltingly. The sentence was awkward coming from him, but at the same time strangely earnest.

Elsa could feel her heart softening and her anger fading away – _No, _a deeper part of her resisted. _No no, he doesn't mean what he says. He doesn't care, not like the way I do. He thinks only of himself – of his own schemes._

"You're proud of me?" Elsa echoed, fury building in every word. "You're _proud?_ Why, because you suddenly saw what I can do and you think you're somehow responsible?"

His eyes narrowed. "No."

"Oh, then is it because you've seen my potential and you can't help but think that it isn't too late to add me back into your plans?"

Instantly Pitch's face closed down, and Elsa shook her head in triumph and incredulity. "That _is _what you're thinking!" she cried.

He glared at her. "When did you find out my intentions for you?"

"When I was old enough to realize what was going on. Before you _cut me off_," she said savagely. "I figured that one of the reasons the _Bogeyman_ would come to see me was because he saw me as a potential ally. It's a basic rule of politics – forge alliances early, always thinking of future accomplishments."

"So then you knew." His voice was carefully toneless but his eyes were watching her again, assessing her reaction.

Elsa pressed two fingers against her forehead. "Of course I did. I even _wanted_ to be with you." She flung her hand away, gesturing to him. "But what a fool I was, hoping that you really thought I was worth your time. You left me at the first sign that things weren't going you way. When things started to happen that you hadn't anticipated."

"I?" Pitch challenged, the familiar fire rising in his eyes. "I anticipated everything but how squeamish a little girl could be when learning how to defend herself."

"And yet how squeamish is a little girl who regularly converses with the Nightmare King?" Elsa fired back in return.

Pitch was quiet for a moment, and Elsa knew he was considering her point. Elsa shook her head. "But you still left me." Her heels tapped delicately on the floor as she took one, then two steps toward him. "Because something happened that you weren't prepared for."

Pitch visually stiffened. "Your power to seduce," he spat, and his words were so acidic that Elsa paused.

"Yes," she agreed.

His mouth curved down angrily. "You haven't neglected that side of your abilities."

"Of course not," she murmured, deciding it was best to go along with his accusation. It was true she had been swaying her hips a little more, smiling coquettishly, and generally behaving more flirtatious than was normal for her. Now she shifted her weight to her back leg, allowing the long slit of her gown to reveal fair skin. "They both can be weapons, can't they?" she mused, half-mocking.

Pitch's eyes darted from her leg up to her face. His lip curled in a snarl. "Don't play with me."

"Play?" she echoed, adopting false surprise. "Why, Pitch Black, do you want me to _play_ with you?"

"You have before."

"That wasn't _playing_!" she gasped. Her heart wrenched at the fresh reminder of his dismissal. _So that really was what he'd thought of me back then._ "That's was – a mistake."

His brows furrowed. "Mistake?"

"Yes! Just like it was a mistake to – " Elsa sucked in her breath. It was a mistake to wish he'd come. It was a mistake to bandy words with this man, especially when it was becoming obvious – terribly, achingly obvious – that she was still in love with him, despite the years and the loneliness and the many times she'd told herself she was _fine._

Pitch was looking at her with a carefully blank look on his face. "Don't tell me," he said flatly, "that you actually thought you were in love with me."

Elsa shut her eyes, her mind immediately falling back on the mantra. _Conceal, don't feel –_

_No,_ she interrupted herself. _Not anymore. Take your anguish and turn it. Twist it. Change it to your advantage._

_You can do this. You are in control._

"I think I did," she confessed, glancing back at him. His face gave nothing away, so Elsa laughed softly. "Can you imagine? A lonely princess, falling in love with her nocturnal intruder?"

Pitch didn't respond.

Elsa pulled her braid further over one shoulder and started walking again. "Thankfully you gave me three years to move past my naïve dreams. It would be a lie if I said I felt _nothing_ for you, though."

She felt his eyes move to follow her as she brushed past him to an open doorway. "I'm not a little girl, Pitch – you said that yourself. I've changed. Grown up."

"Yes…" He paused over the threshold of the room; it was completely empty but for a spacious bed.

Elsa turned to look at him. "You rejected a young girl, and that I understand. But now I'm an adult. Would you turn me down if I asked you now?"

Pitch snorted softly. "_Adult_. You're barely one."

"But even so. She stepped forward until they were face-to-face, so close that she could see the brighter flecks of gold in his irises against the darker ochre. "What would you say, Pitch Black," she murmured, "if I told you to stay?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you tell me or asking?"

Elsa smiled, almost comforted by his relapse into his trademark dry humor. "Perhaps I shouldn't use words, then," she said, and tilted her head up to kiss him.

She had imagined the moment countless times long ago, back when she had still thought a future together was possible. Before her dreams had been dashed. Now she was kissing him, _actually_ kissing him, and the first few seconds were distracted by the logical thoughts running through her mind.

_This is my first kiss. Will Pitch be able to tell I'm not experienced?_

_The kiss means nothing. It doesn't, not anymore. But perhaps I can help him feel something. If I can make him desire me, even love me as much as I loved him, then my betrayal will be all the more bittersweet._

_I'll make him suffer, just as I suffered. I'll leave him, just as he left me._

_So play with me, Pitch Black,_ she thought, leaning into the kiss. _Give me the satisfaction of a retribution well-served._

Then Elsa's thoughts scattered as Pitch began to kiss her in return. His mouth teased hers open with an ease that left Elsa a little breathless. It was like kissing the night – all darkness and depth. Elsa brushed her fingers across his thin cheek, his high, smooth cheekbones, and it was like grazing her hand across the still surface of a dark pool.

He was captivating. Devastating.

He was everything she had ever dreamed.

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**A/N: There _will_ be more. :)**


	29. A Beautiful Hunger

**A/N: I'm pretty sure this is the chapter you've all been waiting for. :) Enjoy~**

**CAUTION - some heavy stuff ahead.**

**Standard disclaimers apply.**

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*A Beautiful Hunger*

Elsa was too much – too gentle, too seductive, too slow. Tremors rippled across his skin as her cold fingers pushed through his hair and lazily trailed down his neck. He realized that despite her bold words and even bolder advances, she was still holding back.

But Pitch didn't have the patience for her shyness. He pulled her hard against him, his hands fisting in the back of her dress. He kissed her hard, and Elsa froze for a moment, taken aback. Then she was kissing him with all the hunger and ferocity he saw in her eyes moments ago. She pushed her hands between them, tracing the angles of his sinewed chest beneath his cloak. Pitch shifted to cradle her hips with both hands, using the space Elsa created to press his lips against her collarbone. The soft gasp she made as Pitch's tongue darted out brought a pleased smile to his face.

"Do you feel like an adult yet, Snow Queen?" he murmured, half taunting her.

"No," she said, voice uneven. She tugged him forward to the bed and pulled him down beside her.

The ice crystals of her dress were rough against his fingers, but Pitch didn't care. His hands were insistent, tugging against the spun fabric. Elsa sighed, her back arching under his fingers. Her leg – the pale long one, the one Pitch had admired earlier – rose to cage his body against hers. She lured his lips away from her breastbone and kissed him. The ice from her breath crackled inside him again, just like the first kiss - enticing, alluring. He wanted – no, he _needed _more.

Her gown of ice and his cloak of shadows were easily banished. In the frigid blue light of the windowless room, Elsa looked almost luminous, her porcelain skin pure white like the snow she created. For a brief moment, Pitch hesitated. He was darkness made flesh, black as deepest night – _I'll ruin her, _he thought. _Once I touch her, she'll be blemished. Impure. My shadows will ruin her._

And then Elsa's deep blue eyes looked into his, and Pitch knew his fear was in vain. _She was ruined from the moment she called me her friend._

He tried to pace himself, but it was difficult when Elsa's breathing turned erratic, when her hands pulled him closer, closer. What undid him was her voice against his ear, a heavy "Pitch. Oh, Pitch – " that made his own breaths come fast and shallow.

And so he devoured her, body and heart. And perhaps she had stolen a part of him, too; afterwards as he leaned back on an elbow to look at her, he found himself curling a hand in the loose strands of her hair. Somehow her braid had unraveled and now it glimmered like waves of moonlight between his dark fingers.

"Wait," Elsa rasped as he began to turn away. "Stay by me."

So he rested his cheek against her smooth belly, ignoring the soft sheen of sweat that still covered both their bodies, and stared at the far wall.

Somewhere in the time that Elsa gave herself to him and he had taken her freely, she had lost control. Angular, geometric patterns raced up the walls, glittering in fresh white. And twisted against that ice, curling deftly around it, inside of it, were fingers of dark shadows.

Pitch's eyes narrowed. _She wasn't the only one,_ he thought, frowning. But the entwined darkness and ice quickly caught his attention again. They worked well together – like two halves of a whole. _It's a promise of what could be, he _thought_. A promise of what we could be, Elsa and I._

_Together._

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**A/N: There will be more. :3**


	30. A Beautiful Promise

**A/N: Wow! Thanks for all the enthusiastic reviews! :D Here's hoping that you'll enjoy this one just as much!**

**And we are now at the 30 chapter mark! *throws confetti***

**Standard disclaimers apply.**

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*A Beautiful Promise*

"Stay with me," Elsa murmured.

Pitch opened his eyes. He realized that he had been unconsciously rubbing his thumb in circles across her hip bone and stopped. "No. I have already spent too much time in one location tonight."

"Then tomorrow – "

"No. I need to get back to my duties."

Elsa was silent for a long moment. "Then I'll go with you."

Then it was Pitch's turn to fall silent. Elsa knew what he did and all that it entailed – better, perhaps, than even the Guardians. "You may never come back to Arendelle," he warned.

"There is nothing for me here," she said quietly.

"What about your sister?"

Elsa paused, but when she spoke her voice was hard. "What about her?"

Pitch recalled the accusatory words at Elsa's coronation ball, the condemning look on Anna's face that Elsa had cringed away from.

"So you're sure you want to help me scare children?" Pitch asked archly, turning to look at her.

"I'll just be showing them the truth," Elsa said, meeting his eyes.

Pitch didn't answer.

Elsa must have sensed the doubt in him because she wriggled out from beneath him and slid down until they were face-to-face. "I'll do it, Pitch," she said. A loop of shining hair hung over one shoulder, wavy and beautiful. "You still have a lot to teach me, I know, but I want to know. I want to go with you. I want… " Her fingers reached out, white on black, to press against his chest. "I want _you._"

Something inside Pitch cracked. He had needed to hear those words, he realized. He had _longed _for someone, anyone, to tell him that. And now this girl, the Snow Queen –

She _had _taken part of him, after all – stolen a piece of his soul so slowly, so carefully, that he hadn't even noticed until now. How clever she was, to have learned so well.

_Yes, _Pitch thought, but he didn't answer. He hooked a hand around her jaw and pulled her into a rough kiss. Immediately her arms came up along his shoulders, pulling him down on top of her. He nudged his knee against the inside of her leg but she was already there, showing him the way.

"Elsa," he breathed against her lips. She only sighed, her body rising up to meet his.

This time it was Elsa that devoured him, body and heart.

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**A/N: There will be more.**


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